Declaration
by mentalagent13
Summary: Became a one-shot series based off of songs I have heard. Rated T because I am paranoid, but there are a few implications that lead to not so nice things. Give it a try and leave a review as you exit please.
1. Declaration

**A/N: **I've actually wanted to do this for awhile, but never got the gumption up to write it. This is based on David Cook's Declaration. I'm up for doing more if you like it. Please feel free to message me ideas for songs or quotes or anything else you can think of. Please leave a review on your way out. Just as an FYI, I write for 3 series so…whatever you give me might not make it into these characters if I think it fits different ones better. Those 3 series are: NCIS, The Mentalist, and Warehouse 13. Ok? Ok, well enough about me. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing pertaining to David Cook or his song. NCIS does not belong to me either (along with Mentalist or Warehouse 13 don't own them).

**Declaration**

_Do you care what I believe 'cause I'm still breathing  
>Or that I wear your heart upon my sleeve?<br>Sometimes I think you never knew  
>The only truth I see is you, is you<em>

_It's my declaration to anyone who's listening_  
><em>You're my inspiration as I stand alone against the world<em>  
><em>'Cause you love and you bleed and you stole my soul to set me free<em>  
><em>It's my declaration<em>

_Are there any words to say that I would ever mean enough?  
>When the light runs from the day will the darkness be too much?<br>Will I ever be enough?_

* * *

><p>It's hard for her to sit and look at him every day. Her ability to read the man sitting across the bullpen is uncanny. Granted she can read anyone and everyone, yet there is something different about him; something different about the <em>way<em> that she can read him. He looks her in the eye and she can see all the pain and suffering he has gone through. She sees the light shining in his eyes that sparkle with mystery and mischief seconds later. This man has been through gut wrenchingly difficult times and still has the uncanny ability to smile.

He has never been afraid to tell her exactly what he thinks of her. Most people will sugarcoat their opinions because she is pretty, or because they know her past is a tragic one. It makes her sick. She does not want their pity, their attempts at stumbling through a blatant lie. Even Gibbs will lie to her if he thinks it is better for her. The important things should not be sugarcoated, but they all try to do it. They try to ease the pain. He does not ease the pain. He rips it open while standing and waiting for the aftermath. He has always stayed to help her combat the truth. That is what she needs.

"What are you thinking, Tony?" she asks out of curiosity. He has been staring at his computer screen for a full 30 minutes without once acknowledging anyone else in the room. He does this sometimes. Just stares at his screen.

"Nothing, Zi-va," he enunciates playfully. She rolls her eyes. This time is different. There is a sadness lurking behind his usually conceited gaze. He is doing an unusually good job at hiding his emotion from her today. That, in itself, bothers her. She decides that sneaking up behind him is her best option. She has an inkling she should see whatever is on his screen.

He jumps and closes the window when she appears behind him. He isn't fast enough. She was able to glance at the images. Years have passed since the day she came back from her own personal hell. The image sears itself into the back of her mind. She has to grab the desk behind her for support. She knew it had been bad, but looking in the mirror she had gotten better every day. Seeing what she had looked like now only made her nauseous.

"Ziva…" he starts, but closes his mouth as she gathers herself.

"Why, Tony?" she asks softly.

"They were released today to those who went on the mission. You were omitted because, well, because they are of you," he tells her. His voice is the calmest she has ever heard directed toward her. He usually saves his calming voice for telling people their loved one has just died.

"Why?" she sputters. Anger is filling her quickly. Her eyes focus on the stairs leading to Vance's office. He has something to do with this. She knows it.

"They held them long enough, Ziva. The mission isn't classified anymore. Vance has kept them under lock and key, but the evidence of your injuries needs to stay documented. We have to look at them to close the file. To make sure no one tampered with or switched any," he tells her carefully. She instantly deflates.

"That was a different me, Tony," she hesitates to tell him, "I will not become that again."

"That much I know, Ziva. I went there to seek revenge. Later, plans changed," he says with a shrug. His dedication to her astounds her. He goes above and beyond the call of a partner by her definition. The most shocking realization is that she knows that she would do the same for him. His eyes meet hers once again as he bears his soul to her through them.

He is dedicated to _her_ and he doesn't care who knows. He would shout it from the rooftops if she asked him to. She looks away afraid to see anymore than she can handle right now. Unsteady hands reach for his mouse. He is silent as she scrolls through the few pictures that document her vast injuries.

"How many have seen these?" she whispers.

"Just Gibbs and I," he answers. He wasn't supposed to hear her. She cringes at the realization that he has now officially seen her at her absolute worst. She was emotionally ready to die in Somalia. She hadn't realized that her injuries would have killed her in a few days if they hadn't come when they did.

His hand hovers over hers as he closes the window once again. She hadn't noticed how much she is shaking. She puts both hands on his desk to steady them. His hand finds her cheek to turn her head so that she can face him. There is concern in his gaze, but underneath it is affection; affection she doesn't deserve. Especially not from him.

"Thank you," she finally manages to voice. Those two words are not nearly enough to catalogue what she wants to say. She wants to make up for everything she has ever done to him. There were so many times she treated him without respect; without the admiration he deserves. It is then she realizes how deep the affection she has for him runs. It is deeper than any she has ever felt before.

Looking into his eyes, she decides that she has to stay away from him. He deserves someone that doesn't have the tragic past that she does. Someone he can go home to at night and have a normal American family with. Whoever it is will be more beautiful than he can ever imagine, of that she is sure. He will change for her. He is a romantic at heart. She smiles at the thought.

She smiles down at him quickly before moving back to her desk. Her report is half finished and she needs it done in an hour. Her keys clack as she types a few sentences into the designated lines. No sound emits from across the expanse of the bullpen. She looks up to find him staring at her. In his eyes is the truth. In that truth she sees that she is enough and more. More than she can comprehend. She takes a slow deep breath. Without saying a word she has somehow become more than enough for him. The impending darkness she felt moments ago at the thought of losing him to another woman is gone. He wants her…and he is no longer afraid to show it.


	2. May I

**A/N: **I know this song has been done before, but reading my interpretation will be much loved. This is for the only roommate I have ever liked (she knows who she is). 'Twas my only recommendation *sighs* more would be wonderful. Thanks for reading!

**Disclaimer:** Nope, owning them would mean I actually couldn't do this. Owning the song would make me too busy touring. Therefore, neither are mine.

**May I**

_All that's made me (made me)  
>Is all worth trading (worth trading)<br>just to have one moment with you.  
>So I will let go (will let go)<br>all that I know (that I know)  
>knowing that you're here with me.<br>For your love is changing me._

_May I hold you as you fall to sleep,  
>when the world is closing in<br>and you can't breathe.  
>May I love you.<br>May I be your shield.  
>When no one can be found<br>may I lay you down._

_-Trading Yesterday_

He sits at his desk staring at the empty one across from him. She has left for the night, but not without giving him her customary smile. She gives him one everyday as she leaves. Of course, she gives a smile to the entire team. When she turns to face him it always seems as though she puts something a little extra into the expression. He wishes he could pinpoint exactly what made her smile that much brighter.

It seems like millennia ago that he only dreamed of taking her home to see what the exotic beauty hid. She would have been another solid notch on his bedpost. One that he probably would have fondly remembered, but never contacted in that manner again. There had always been another woman waiting. Another warm body for him to hold on the cold nights he craved one.

It's different now. She left. She made the choice to leave him. That hurt more than anything he could have ever imagined. No one had ever chosen to leave. She didn't even have a choice the first time. The second time she walked away. Not in the literal sense because technically Gibbs left her on the tarmac in Tel Aviv. Her mind and heart left though. That was the more important part.

Of course, she was not given the choice to come back. That had been forcefully taken from her. When the team arrived to avenge her death, saving her seemed like a dream come true. Now, he treasures every second in her presence. Especially the few he gets to enjoy outside of work. Their relationship once they are off the clock is more complicated than he even wants to imagine. They rely on each other to an extent that probably isn't healthy. He smiles to himself as he packs his bag for the night. He has somewhere he needs to be.

"Night, Boss," he says to the only other person in the bullpen. A grunt is the only reply from the man reading yet another case file. He chuckles as he heads toward the elevator that takes him to his car. The clock reads an ungodly hour, but he still heads toward his original destination. Something inside him tells him that he is needed somewhere other than his apartment.

His phone rings before he gets there. Her name is on the display.

"Hey," he whispers. He doesn't want to frighten her. He knows this isn't a case. Gibbs would have called him first, because he was the candidate that was still awake and semi-coherent. The only sound on the other end of the line is a ragged breathing. He can imagine her closing her eyes in frustration as she gains back a normal breathing tempo as an agonizingly slow pace.

"Ziva," he whispers. A whimper reaches his ear from across the line. He is a block away from her apartment. "Listen to me, Ziva. Listen to what is outside," he tells her. Her breathing returns to normal before he reaches her front door. She won't open the door to her complex. The old woman next to her opens it instead. He would have to send the lady flowers this week in thanks.

"Ziva, open the door," he says for the third time that night. It doesn't help that he is talking to her through her locked front door. He could pick the lock, but that would betray her trust. She already hung up on him once she calmed enough to realize what she had done. Now, she refuses to open the door because he should be at home sleeping, or at least that is her most recent excuse. He takes a deep breath and sits with his back against the door. It's going to be a long night.

He finds that falling backward into her door way is not a good way to be woken from a nap. His head and back agree as he struggles to a sitting position once again. She rolls her eyes and helps him to stand.

"I told you to go home," she tells him sternly. He gives her his best smile. She isn't fooled. Then again, she never has been. She shuts the door and they stand in semi-darkness. The light in her bathroom is on. It's the nightlight he installed ages ago when she couldn't sleep because it was too dark, but the lights were too bright. Everything had reminded her of the desert except the soft glow of the nightlight. The desert is harsh. The nightlight is not.

"Ziva…"

"No, Tony. You are tired. Go home and go to sleep. I am fine," she hastily tells him.

"No, you're not, Ziva," he whispers. She glares at him. The long sleeves on the warm winter evening say more than her words ever can. She only covers up on really bad nights.

"Ziva," he says again. This time, her shields fall and her haunted eyes meet his. He bites his tongue to keep the words of comfort on it. They won't help. They never do. Hearing what he tells her and actually listening to it are two very distinctly different things. He opens his arms in a silent invitation.

She hesitates, but eventually buries her head in his shoulder as she cries a few tears. She is stronger than he will ever be, but in his opinion everyone needs to cry sometimes…even him. If he had let his emotion out, maybe he wouldn't have spent so many nights with the bottle after Jenny died. She pulls away only seconds later. They stand in her entryway awkwardly for a full five minutes.

"You need sleep, Tony," she tells him evenly.

"So do you, Ziva," he whispers back. She huffs at the obvious solution to her situation and leads him through her apartment to her bedroom. The light in her bathroom allows him to see his every step. He smiles as they pass it.

"I should not have called you," she tells him matter-of-factly once they are standing in her bedroom. He doesn't agree, nor does he disagree. She needs to get her thoughts out or she will never sleep tonight.

"May I?" he asks as he motions toward the side of the bed farthest from her light source. Her eyebrow rises slightly, but she nods once. He strips to his boxers before climbing into her bed. She moves to get in the other side, but pauses. Her long sleeves come off to reveal a tank top. Sweats meet the floor so her legs can reside in only shorts for the night.

His arms offer her comfort once again in his silent invitation. She stares him down. He decides not to push his luck with her any farther. He can wait. For her, he can wait. It's safe to say, he's surprised to find her cuddled against him in the early morning light.


	3. Home

**A/N:** Based on the song _Home_ by Chris Daughtry. It's basically all Ziva's thoughts. This was a request by my wonderful roommate because she gives me the best ideas. Thanks to everyone that takes the time to read and review!

**Disclaimer:** You think I own it? Hahahahahaha *takes deep breath* Sorry, I don't own either NCIS or Chris Daughtry.

**Home**

The city rolls by quickly as she looks out the taxi window. She inhales deeply without a sound so she doesn't alert the driver to her current emotional state. The last thing she needs is his sympathy or worse…his pity. What happened in the past is in the past. Right now, she is going home.

She has come to realize that most Americans refer to their home as the place they grew up in. It's not the same for her. Israel is the country she came from, but it does not hold the place in her heart that it once did. America is a great country in its own right, but it still doesn't give her the feeling of being somewhere she belongs. For her home is not a place. Home is a group of people.

One man can only be described as a rather eccentric, caring Grandfather. Ducky is the one to go to for wise advice that you don't always want to hear. He also makes the best tea. The Medical Examiner may have been the first one to truly accept her. He has never once asked her to be someone that she is not. That fact had frustrated her at first. Now, she is glad for it. Ducky helps her to see things from a different perspective. She no longer makes as many brash decisions. For that she will be forever grateful.

McGee unknowingly plays the part of the brother she sometimes wishes Ari could have learned from. McGee is sweet and naïve to a fault. He sees the good in as much as he possibly can. Out of everyone, she wishes her life had not affected McGee's in the way that it has. Keeping him ignorant of the ways of the world would have been nice. Innocence is something she had never had the luxury of experiencing. She had once envied that innocence in McGee and vowed to protect it. Yet, even after Somalia he still tries to see the positive in as many situations as possible. That one event has proven that she does not negatively affect everyone she comes into contact with.

She chuckles to herself as she thinks about Abby. Abby is the only female that she has the patience to tolerate. That number shrinks astronomically when she considers those she has befriended. Abby is the one that fought her joining the team the most. The woman had lost a valued colleague and friend only days before. It has taken time, but now they have come to understand each other; a feat that no other female in her life can claim.

The taxi stops abruptly as the sound of the horn reverberates through her head. It brings her back into the moment. Traffic is at an absolute standstill. She looks out the windshield to see a chorus of flashing lights. She examines the pattern of each one. None of them match the pattern of the truck that she rarely drives. She places her I.D. back in her purse, not realizing she had ever taken it out. She is not needed at whatever scene is in front of her.

She settles for staring at the building to her right. It reminds her of the one she has just left in Tel Aviv. Her father had asked for her presence through Director Vance. It had been a year since she had talked to Eli face to face, and Vance had decided it was a good time for her to check on their allies in Israel. Before she could even ask about taking someone with her, he had calmly informed her that it was a one-person mission. Eli had asked for her and only her.

She shakes her head to clear her thoughts of the memories. Her recent "vacation" has made her appreciate her boss more than ever. Gibbs had accepted her as part of the team because of her actions. He now watches her just as he watches everyone else. If she makes a mistake she must fix it.

He has taken up the role of father figure easily. He offers her comfort in unconventional ways. She is allowed to make an arrest or drive back to headquarters. When the man gives words of praise they are taken seriously. He is a man of few words and when he offers them they are to be listened to. Gibbs' face is unreadable on good days; impenetrable on others.

Traffic begins to clear as a silent ambulance drives by her taxi. The taxi driver makes a left turn onto an alley that brings them out on a much clearer street. She is beginning to recognize the streets more intimately as they continue toward her destination. The tempting neon lights flash at her as bodies pour into a local bar.

A few of her old colleagues in Israel had called her a coward for returning to D.C., back to a place they deem "a coward's haven". She had ignored them to walk out of the building…until one of them uttered a name and spat on the ground directly afterward. Translating the Hebrew that left her mouth would not be healthy for anyone. She is not ashamed that neither colleague left unscathed. The name uttered was simple, _Tony_.

She can't explain why she is so protective of her partner. He is a classic playboy with seemingly no real connection to women. 10 years ago in Israel she would never have considered talking to him. He adores beautiful women. He also knows that he can gain an entire room's attention if he wants to. All of that together would have made him too much of a risk as an undercover agent in Mossad.

He's also a jokester. Some of the most difficult times of her life had been surrounded by nicknames and humor. Damon high on steroids reminds her of Tony high on painkillers. The first words she heard from him when she never thought she'd see him again were, "How was your summer?" They were both strapped to chairs in a terrorist camp at the time. Of course he now enjoys calling her Probette at any time he deems it necessary.

After that she had met Tony, the man that's behind the playboy and jokester. He offers her comfort when she needs it. She usually prefers to cry in solitude. No one needs to know. He sought her out and she couldn't help it. She found herself in his arms. He knows when to say something and when to stay silent. He can read her better than anyone (except maybe Gibbs). There are times she wishes he couldn't read her so well.

His main flaw is his incessant need to protect her fiercely. He can be a bumbling fool at times when stealth is needed. She is infinitely quieter than he is. He can't take on more than one man at a time. He pesters her constantly if he deems it necessary. He always has to know what is going on with her. Yet, she wants no one else at her back. He tells her when she is being irrational, and if anyone threatens her…well she would not want to be that person when Tony finishes with him. Of course once Tony is done he would have to deal with her. She can't imagine trying to choose a partner half as good as Tony.

She pays the cab driver and grabs her bag out of the trunk. The Navy Yard looms in front of her as per her request. It's near 11pm, but that doesn't mean anything in the MCRT's world; if Tony's texts are true, the team is hard at work catching the killer of a naval officer. She breathes in the D.C. air deeply relieved to be back in America. Her first few steps are determined as she heads toward the door in front of her.

"Hey," she hears from somewhere to her left. The voice is unmistakably recognizable. "Back already? Thought you weren't coming back until tomorrow."

She tries to laugh, but it dies before it reaches her lips. She is tired, but does not want to go back to her empty apartment. Instead she manages a slight smile.

"For the record…I still think someone should have gone with you," Tony says evenly. She raises an eyebrow. Her features are barely lit by a streetlight behind her. He chuckles at her obvious sign of disapproval. They study each other. His features can be easily read under the light shining on them. She knows he sees as much as she does, if not more, even in the limited light. His presence outside proves that he has missed her during her two short weeks away. He is risking Gibbs' anger out here waiting for her.

"Let me take your bag," he offers with a shrug.

"I can handle it," she answers immediately. He rolls his eyes and places a hand atop hers on her suitcase handle. She admits to herself that it is heavy, but allowing him to take it would be a sure sign of weakness.

"I know, but I want to," he whispers as he leans in close to her ear. His chest is inches from hers. She can feel the heat rolling off him in the chilly night air. His hand tightens around hers on the handle of her suitcase. She closes her eyes to revel in his touch for a moment longer. When her eyes reopen he is even closer. It worries her a little that she didn't notice it happen. It causes her to let go of her suitcase. He gives her a triumphant smile as he pulls her suitcase out of her reach.

"C'mon, Ziva, let's go see Abby," he says with a cocky grin that screams danger. Abby has something planned and he knows about it. She walks beside him and soon finds his hand against the small of her back as he guides her into the building. Right now, she feels as if she had never left; as if this is where she belongs. She's just afraid that now she may have gotten more than she had initially bargained for.

**A/N: **So…if anyone has any song recommendations of any kind I'd love to hear them. Add a request and I'll do my best to write it.


End file.
